a deep voice shouted. The work crew’s boss gestured to the man operating a dump truck. Bright, hot sunshine beamed down on the men. Work had begun early enough, but even now, at ten in the morning, their shirts were soaked with sweat. In spite of the heat and humidity, the men kept up a steady pace. They took turns drinking water from the big, round coolers they carried with them. For three more hours they worked, clearing the thick vegetation in preparation for the installation of a road. Onlookers who lived or worked near Bayou Latte wandered over to watch, off and on. Even the birds, disturbed from their usual quiet routine, perched high in the trees to observe the activity below. The sandy dirt was scooped up into huge piles, which would later be used to build up the levee along Grande River. Large rocks would be broken up for use as gravel for the road bed or concrete mix. Nothing would be discarded. Even the clank of machinery did not spoil the beauty of the scene. Bayou Latte, which flowed along for miles, was surrounded by lush, green grass.
